


Seagulls

by DaisyofGalaxy



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, F/M, filling the gaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 04:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13516860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyofGalaxy/pseuds/DaisyofGalaxy
Summary: The newly established relationship between Geralt and Yennefer isn't even a week old, but their insecurities and fears overshadow already the blissfulness and excitement blooming along with their love.Set between The Last Wish and A Bound of Reason. Geralt and Yennefer in the aftermath of their first fight.





	Seagulls

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank Eileniessa and Dabbles In Crayon for all their help with this "baby". Thank you for all your suggestions and time. 
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy, and please do not forget to check out my other stories. :)

“So how did  _ it _ happen?” Dandelion asked, taking a sip of beer from his bone jug.

“How what?” Geralt replied, following his friend’s example. 

“How did you and her-” The Bard paused, seeing the barmaid approach their table. At the last second, however, the girl who was terribly pale and ten, maybe twelve springs old turned right. “Damn. How long does it take to get something to eat in this shithole? I’m getting properly hungry. Tell me everything.”

“Tell you what exactly?” asked the Witcher again.

“How did you and her... How did it happen that you ditched  _ her _ ?”

“Didn’t want to ditch her,” Geralt blurted, picking at the leaves of the potted ivy that along with his and Dandelion’s jugs was the only thing on the table. “We had our first fight and decided to part ways. Simple as that.”

“I don't believe it was that simple.”

“Better start to.”

_ It happened casually. Too casually _ , the Witcher thought, trying to neaten in his mind the deplorable turn of events that had led him to that exact moment. 

_ It had started like every other day in the last week or so _ , he recalled. _ It had started in the best enfilade of the best inn in the whole of Novigrad and not long after the dawn. Like every other morning in the last week, Geralt had done his best to wake up before her. _

_ From that point on, every morning had looked pretty much the same: he had laid perfectly still and watched, almost trying to gobble her down with his gaze. He had no clue why. _

_ There was something about her he couldn't quite name: her raven-black hair, her skin in the colour of alabaster. The subtle blush on her cheeks when her dreams were about to end. Her facial lines while tense and chilly when she was awake, suddenly could suit a marble statue. She was pretty, but he had seen prettier. And he had seen uglier than her as well.  _

No, he could not tell Dandelion  _ this _ . Just like he could not tell him the real reason that made him spend his every morning in that particular way. He should not know that after a week of being constantly in her company, the Witcher knew almost nothing about her, and that it drove him mad. He didn’t know why it made him feel that way and that realisation was perhaps even worse. No, he should not know that. He would not understand. 

“We went to see that new play,” he started, still torturing the plant. “It’s strange. Tried more culture in that one week with her than in my whole life. Don’t remember its name-” 

“And whose fault is this?” snorted the Bard. “Was it called Auriel?”

“Yes.”

Dandelion nodded and brought the jug to his mouth. “She took you to see Auriel,” he commented with a note of something similar to admiration. “How did you find it? Heard its message is universal.”

“Funny,” sighed Geralt and pushed aside the pot and the nearly-dead plant, “Yennefer said so too.”

 

_ “Did you like it?” Yennefer asked, burying her teeth in the pretzel she had allowed the Witcher to buy her after long minutes of  his begging.  _

_ Geralt stuck his head out from under the awning which was their shelter for the last ten minutes or so. The autumn rain that haunted the city had subsided, but still not enough for them to continue walk. “It was good,” he replied absentmindedly.  _

_ The sorceress laughed as if his reply was the best joke she had heard last week or so. He looked at her. _

_ “Nothing,” she commented and leaned back on the brick wall. Her eyelashes seemed impossibly long now as she lowered her gaze to inspect the pretzel. Her fingers effectively scraped off all salt crystals she could find. Now, under different angle, Geralt noticed that the butter with which the bun was stuffed gave her lips a nice, silver gleam. He felt a sudden urge to kiss her. Again. Lately, everything kept tempting  him to. “We’ve just seen the best play this season and all you say is “good”. Beside, Auriel is a child of that man who married his mother. The play we’ve seen the other day. Come on, Witcher, you owe me more than this.” _

_ “Alright, it was enlightening.” _

_ “Just enlightening?” she said, sizing him up mischievously. “I would say it was timeless. Divine versus human right - it never gets old.” _

_ “Well,” Geralt started, repeating the trick with the weather check, “neither of those is important. Hygiene is, and burial is one of its most important parts.” _

_ Yennefer chuckled again. Geralt glanced at her again. _

_ “Nothing,” she sighed, hiding her amusement with clear trouble. “I keep forgetting how enlightening you can be.” _

 

“You’re such a downer,” Dandelion commented. 

The barmaid finally found their table and along with her, their supper. Geralt brightened up a little at the sight of roasted chickens and caramelized carrots. Naturally, the feast they were about to have wasn’t able to wash away the pain of failure but was still very close to doing so.

“No bigger than you are,” he said, freeing one of the birds from the steel stick. A drop or two of fat stained his thumbs. He put them in his mouth. “Don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to listen.”

“I do want to,” replied Dandelion, imitating his actions. A fat, greyish rat jumped onto their table and stopped only inches away from the man’s hand. It was obvious that similar dealings must have taken place on other similar occasions. The Bard reached for the basket with bread and shared some crumbles with the animal.

“Rats are amazing,” he mumbled, suggesting quite plainly where his disquisition would lead. “Just look at Peter: apparently the well-being of others in his group is more important to him than procreation. The male rat rejects the female in heat to save other males from drowning. I heard it from a friend who is a scholar in Oxenfurt. If only people were like this.”

Geralt took a deep breath, trying not to look at the left the leg of the rat which was dirtied with a substance that in the best case was mud. 

“Your life wasn’t endangered, Dandelion.”

“How could you know if you were constantly with her? Never mind. Tell me more.”

 

_ “What do you want to do with the rest of the evening?” Geralt brought up the subject when the rain had finally stopped enough for Yennefer and him to continue their walk. _

_ “Well,” she said, giving him an invitation to link their hands. The Witcher took it almost instantly. He liked doing it. Inside his hand, hers felt almost weightless. “We had our fair share of culture. We haven’t dined yet but this can be quickly arranged. We could order some food to our room, take a long bath. And then, we could move to the thing we both like most.” _

_ Geralt smiled at her proposition, but did not reply straight away as he had used to. _

 

“Someone grew tired of making love?” Dandelion interrupted, showing off his white teeth. Peter the Rat had finished his meal and moved to the hygiene ritual, not paying attention to anything other than his fat white belly. “Who would have thought? So it’s true what they say? You know- about sorceresses.” 

“Depends what you have in mind,” blurted Geralt. 

“You know what I have in mind, Witcher. The famous Messalina’s complex.”

“Ease up a little, Dandelion. And listen.”

 

_ “Something wrong?” she asked him as if sensing his hesitation. Quite likely it wasn't only a feeling. _

_ Geralt shook his head and gently forced her to slacken her pace along the row of narrow, wooden houses. The last thing they needed was a rain of dishwater, and the area they were currently crossing strongly suggested such a possibility. “Not really. Don’t get me wrong, Yen-” _

_ “I shall if you start with those words.” _

_ Geralt sighed, seeing her slow down. They both stopped entirely. _

_ “It’s nothing, Yen,” he begun after a moment, still hopeful that the conversation they were about to have could be avoided. “I’m just not sure if-  What if our relationship is built only on physical parts?” _

_ “What if it is?” she told him and moved closer. He didn’t jerk when she placed her hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. With other women, he would perhaps object but not with her. Nothing seemed too much around her and it drove him insane. “You can't stop me from getting burnt, can you?” she whispered and then ruthlessly pressed her hot lips to his.  _

_ He returned the kiss. He did and did not want to at the same time, and it was almost too much to bear.   _

_ “No, I can't,” he whispered. _

_ A shadow of a smile creeped across the sorceress’s face at the sound of his words. Geralt suspected it had little to do with happiness, but he accepted it nonetheless.  _

_ He kissed her again, much harder this time, almost taking her breath away in the process. And then, once more, she kissed him. All of a sudden, the vision of being caught under the wave of dishwater stopped to scare.  _ The freaking wish _ , he thought but didn’t dare to say. _

_ He wrapped his arm around her and they started to walk again, soon reaching another courtyard. The Witcher recognised this one and knew that from the main square, separated them now only two, maybe three streets. _

_ “What do you want to do then?” Yennefer asked, clinging to him a bit more firmly. “You rejected my offer so now you should suggest something yourself.” _

_ Geralt looked around, searching for inspiration in his surroundings, but soon realised that a bakery and two fishmongers were everything the street had to offer. “Don’t know,” he mumbled, still scouting. “Dandelion’s in Novigrad tonight. Maybe we could visit him,heh?” _

_ “No,” the Sorceress replied. Her words did smart. _

_ They entered Hierarch Square from the side of Vivaldi Bank and she walked over to one of the stalls, not waiting for him. Geralt joined her not long after. _

_ “Why not?” he asked as she was digging through the collection of amber necklaces. The choice seemed at least surprising -in the end she did not wear anything other than diamonds and silver- but he knew that it wasn't necessarily for her. _

_ “Just no,” she said and handed the seller a single golden coin, enough for two amber necklaces and a ring as they learnt not long after. “Suggest something else, please.” _

_ Geralt felt a sudden, sharp stinging in his heart that left him speechless. Or maybe he wanted the entire situation to have such an effect on him? The Enchantress didn’t seem to notice the change in him though. She approached the stall with herbs and other magical ingredients, leaving the Witcher with his thoughts. He followed her in silence. _

_ “I agreed to visit Triss. Maybe you could try to pay me back a little?” He found the courage to ask when it became obvious she would not address the issue on her own. _

_ “Pay you back?” she chuckled, looking at him and nastily knitting her eyebrows. “Thought you went there with me because you wanted to.” _

_ “I did want to,” he nodded, running his fingertips along a lonely rope of garlic. “Thought it would be a nice thing to do. Also thought you’d do the same for me. Clearly you don’t want to.” _

_ “I do want to meet your friends,” she said sternly. _

_ “Doesn’t look like you are trying particularly hard to.” _

_ She didn't argue. He took a better look at the plethora of roots and bulbs in many different colours and shapes. Geralt knew most of them but there were two or three he had never seen before. In line with his predictions, these attracted most of the Sorceress’s attention.  _

_ “You didn't promise anything. Perhaps, I have no right to expect-” _

_ “You can,” Yennefer replied, but did not glance at him for even a second. Instead, she reached for a sachet of white nettle and two roots of mandrake and handed them to the merchant. “You have every right to expect something in return. And I do want to meet your friends more than anything, but tonight I’m too tired to knock about in some dive.” _

_ “Dive?” he repeated after her. _

_ “That is not what I meant,” she said, taking her purchase from the merchant. _

_ “Dive,” he repeated again, this time a bit more virulent than before. “Who am I then? A tramp? A hoodlum? Is that what you think about me? What you thought all this time?” _

_ Yennefer took a step back. Something in her eyes made him believe her and begged for truce but Geralt decided to ignore it. _

_ “Guess you may be right though,” he murmured, crossing his arms and suggesting to her that her offer of peace had been rejected. “I don’t live like you do. Don’t have your money or position. I can’t afford to stay in the Kingfisher Inn or any place you’re used to staying in. I eat in dives, sleep in them sometimes when I’m lucky enough to find one where they actually allow me to stay. ” _

_ “Stop it,” she demanded. “I don't think anything about anyone, alright? It was a casual slip of the tongue.” _

_ Geralt chuckled. _

_ “You find it funny?” she snarled. She seemed calm but he saw her anger boiling under the surface. “You accuse me of something I didn't do and then don't even let me explain myself. I may need to watch my tongue but it is still not nearly half as bad as your habits?” _

_ “If it makes you feel better,” he interrupted her, separating himself from her even further. “That simple slip of the tongue of yours changed my perspective a bit, maybe helped me even. Is this why you're with me? To pay me back for that stupid wish?” _

_ She didn't reply. _

_ “That’s why, right?” he added. To his luck, the square was pretty much deserted. To his luck, because in that very moment he couldn't care less about courtesy. “Poor idiot decided to risk his life for me, so I need to pay him back - is that what you were thinking?” Yennefer released a long sigh but did not speak. “Is that what made you stay with me? You saw how miserable I was and decided to stay? You wanted to pay it back?” _

_ “Of course,” she snarled, tossing her hair to the side. “I’m gentle as a viper but deep down I exist only to buoy up depressed men. Thank you so much for your detailed analysis.  My my… how could I have lived for so long without realising it?” _

_ “Keep denying it if you want to.” _

_ “Of course, I will.” _

_ “Good,” he replied and took a step towards the bank and the street they had just used to get there. “Now I know your motifs, I don’t want to further waste your time any further, Yennefer. It would be very selfish of me.”  _

_ “What gave you the impression you're the one with the power to decide?” she cut him off. “It was my decision to be with you. Mine only. And as for your wish: when did I ask you for help? Don't flatter yourself into thinking I owe you anything, Witcher. You wanted to waste your wish on me - that was your decision. Now you feel like a knight - your right. Don't expect much from me though. I would have made it, with or without your stupid sacrifice.” _

_ “Glad to hear you appreciate it so much.” _

_ “Where is this going, Geralt?” she added, much more calmly. “You want to split? If so it can be easily done, no need to play the victim.” _

_ Geralt delayed his reply but it wasn't for lack of the right words. He had them on the tip of his tongue, ready to escape, to sense the blood and feed on their victims. At the same time, however, he cherished it: the last moments when she looked at him like this, when she wanted him, allowed him to be with her. He knew what could happen if he told her that. _

_ “Will you apologise to me?” she sighed. _

_ “Apologise to you?” he chuckled.  _

_ “You needed a scapegoat and I kindly agreed to be one tonight. I understand it perfectly. Everyone have better and worse days and needs someone to use that energy on. The key is not to blame yourself or others when they do this to you. I don’t blame you. Simply apologise and we will forget about the entire thing.” _

_ Geralt didn’t apologise. He had no slightest desire to. _

_ “If you put things like this…” she said after a long moment and looked him straight in the eye. He haven’t seen her that angry ever since they had hooked up together. “You either apologise to me or we’re done.” _

_ Geralt glanced at her bluntly, still not saying a word. “So this is it, eh? Little Witcher wasn’t taught how to act in similar situations, or maybe you simply like making others feel sorry for you? Is it causing you pleasure?” _

_ Pleasure was the last thing he felt in that moment, but the Sorceress didn’t need to know that. “Yen, you know I don’t like it,” he blurted at last, hearing her curse him and at least three previous generations of his family. “We’re talking about respect here, aren’t we?” _

_ “Because you’re fucking showing me it. You feel offended? You know what - I don’t care. And you were right. Not then but now. You act like a freaking tramp.” _

_ “And you’re always perfect.” _

_ “I’m definitely better than you,” she hissed through her clenched teeth. “But please, carry on.” _

_ “What can you offer me, Yennefer? Have you ever asked yourself that question?” Yennefer glanced at him as if not understanding the question. Or maybe she did but never expected him to sink that low. He stopped caring. “You have not tasted love yourself. You have no one to care for you. You were wrong, Yennefer, and I wasn't perfectly honest with you either. You can't give me happiness. See, you weren’t the only one to be held back with pity.” _

_ “You’re right,” she replied without hesitation. “You're right. As always.” _

_ He was expecting a storm of rage, a wave of insults and curses he had seen her fetch so easily on other occasions over the last week. He wanted her to give him a slating like he had seen her do with others. He badly wanted her to respond that way, but nothing like that happened.  _

 

“You know how to retort, damn it,” Dandelion begun after few good moments of contemplation over what he had just learnt from Geralt.

Geralt patiently waited all that time, stroking Peter’s fur every now and then. He did not try to continue the conversation particularly hard himself. He wanted it to languish in fact, just as much as he wanted that day and week to be finally over. 

“Why are you so quiet, Dandelion?” he started when the silence of his friend became too hard to bear. Peter leered at him with his chestnut brown eye. “And where’s your lady, Peter? You are spending this evening with us for a reason, aren’t you?” The animal raised its tiny head as if understanding everything. “Wanted a bedtime story so here it is.”

“A bedtime story indeed,” the Bard replied, but not right away. 

“What were you expecting, then?”

“Don’t know, Geralt,” he sighed, glancing at something in his almost empty jug. “I thought I wanted to hear it. I thought I would find it funny but I do not. Don’t know… It’s all so eerie, don’t you think? You. Her. All this.”

“Thanks a lot, Dandelion.”

“There’s nothing to thank for. Must say I’m glad this is finally over. If I’m being honest, it creeped me out: this whole fate thing. If she was a regular girl, maybe I would have even been jealous. Having someone just for you, maybe even made for you - how amazing would that be. But it’s  _ her _ . I don't trust that woman, Geralt.”

“You say that just because you don’t want anything stable in your life,” Geralt observed and damped his lips with beer again. Dandelion went silent. “But maybe it’s for the best? Maybe she really was trouble?” 

He badly wanted to believe in it, but somehow he could not. 

 

_ “Where are you going?” Geralt heard Yennefer’s sleepy voice rustle.  _

_ He finished putting his other boot on and raised his head to take a look at her. The room was completely dark but it didn't hold him back much. He still saw her: her hair which formed now a solid black stain, her neck and bare breasts rising and falling with her every breath, only gently covered with the duvet. _

_ “I'll be going. Go back to sleep,” he replied, reaching for his jacket - the last piece of clothing separating him from leaving and disolving into the night. Into nothingness.  _

_ The Sorceress, however, wasn't willing to be placated with orders. “Where you're going? Why?” she asked, just as sleepy as before. _

_ “To Dandelion. Never mind.” _

_ “Why?”  _

_ “Couldn't sleep.” _

_ She shifted on the bed ever so gently and retrieved  her nightdress from between the sheets. The darkness disappeared not long after that, replaced with something very pleasant. _

_ “Come back to bed, Geralt,” she told him, before rolling to her side and making place for him in it again.  _

_ Not knowing why, Geralt obeyed. He came back to the warm and scented bed. The bed which smelled of her.  _

_ “You could take that jacket off, you know?” she offered, still not facing him. _

_ Geralt listened to her again, surprised with his own actions, not sure what they meant to him, to her. Luckily for him, Yennefer was willing to show him. She shifted again. This time around she ended up closer to him, her head landed gently on his chest. He brought his lips to her hair and left a tender kiss. It felt odd. The first woman to snuggle to him with their clothes intact. Odd but nice, surprisingly enduring. _

_ “Tell me about it,” she said next, her violet eyes were set on his but did not intimidate like they often tended to. He saw empathy and kindness in them, maybe even a hint of affection. _

_ “Tell you what?” he asked. _

_ Yennefer pressed herself a bit harder to him. “Tell me anything you want,” she purred. The way she did it could awake some feelings too. Plenty of feelings in fact. “Not a fan of night talks?” _

 

If she was bad news to him, who was he to her, then? She had showed him nothing but kindness and understanding, and he paid her back with criticism she did not deserve.  

“Shouldn’t talk about her personal life,” he mumbled and reached for his jug again, more and more assured how he would spend the rest of that night. “I acted like a turd. I owe her-”

“You owe her nothing,” the Bard cut him off. “She should be happy you saved her. If I were the one to choose, she’d be long dead. She took your last wish, but this has to end. Don’t give her more, Geralt.”

“Glad to hear you’re such a selfless man.”

“I just know I can't change the world. Not to mention you're being manipulated by her. As far as I recall she insulted you first. All you did was act in self-defence, so stop blaming yourself for it. You’re feeling sorry for her while she’s likely found herself another cretin to feed on. Forget about her.”

Maybe it was really self-defence? It definitely didn't help him feel any better or makde his actions more reasonable. He felt an obnoxious void only she could fill, but she was not around. Perhaps, she wasn't even in Novigrad anymore.

 

***

 

“What about your belongings?” asked Dandelion as they were finally leaving the tavern. The world around them was slowly waking up. The strong orange light of the sun suggested a cloudless day. Quite a rare thing in Novigrad that time of the year. “I know you have other things to think about, but those mundane ones are often the most important ones. We should go back to the Kingfisher to retrieve your things. If she left, quite likely they'll start the cleaning soon.”

“Right.”

“Don't be sad. She's not the first and not the last. Elves have an amazing saying for similar occasions-”

“Can you please shut up, Dandelion.”

To his surprise, the Bard did listen. They passed a few streets. Every now and then, Geralt would unexpectedly catch himself looking around. Then, he stopped pretending. He wanted to see her. He needed to, but she was nowhere to be found. 

They entered the main square and then the Kingfisher. The owner let him into their apartments without unnecessary asking. Under other circumstances, he would perhaps spot how rare similar occurrences were, but not that morning. He just needed to be upstairs. The row of oak steps seemed to take forever to cross.

The blood in his veins began to run faster as he opened the door to their room, but the excitement changed to disappointed shortly after. The room looked the same yet different. Her cosmetic, clothes, endless book, they were all gone. Just as she was. The only proof that the last week had ever happened was the gentle smell of lilac and gooseberries. 

He took a seat on the mattress and reached for the white linen shirt which hung from the headboard. 

 

_ “Damn it,” cursed Yennefer as she was vigorously looking for something in the leather suitcase she had brought with her to Novigrad. To Geralt’s genuine surprise, all of her belongings had managed to fit into it. Now as she was unpacking however, he started to suspect the item wasn't a regular suitcase. _

_ He placed the tray with their supper he had brought seconds earlier on the bed and took a seat right next to it and her. “What is it?” he asked. _

_ “My night dress,” she grunted, still keeping her eyes on the item. “I must have left it in Rinde.” _

_ “So what? Had only one?” _

_ The Sorceress did not reply, only mumbled something under her breath. Geralt got himself up to his feet and approached his bags. He retrieved from it one of his undershirts - the newest one to be exact, the fabric still smelling of bleach and lanolin and passed it to her. _

 

He put the shirt aside on the nightstand and got up off the bed. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do next. Packing and leaving the room was perhaps the best solution, but somehow he wasn’t ready to dedicate himself to it just yet. He had no idea why, but a the same time the list of potential reasons was rather short. Maybe he simply didn’t want to know?

He moved closer to the door leading to the balcony and opened it. The balcony adjoining their room was illogically big, tiled, and protected from every angle with shrubs of ivy and boxwood. Their way of using it was probably not a practical one either, but neither of the two had minded. The other guests perhaps had, but to his luck no one had complained about their new hobby yet. To his, because Yennefer had not given a damn about being caught. Now it was past and gone however. He didn’t like that feeling at all.

He approached the railing and took a look at the shrunken world below his feet, at the coarse towers of the city, at the tiny houses strewn around on the fractured cliffs  and the sea which was dressed today in pink and pale blue. His eyes fixed on a weird mark on one of the most distant stones, then everything happened really fast.

He left the building, went down the stone stairs and stopped in the place when they met the grass and the sea of sand. From there, he didn’t dare to move any further. Not straight away and not without assessing if he was entitled to in the first place. 

He glanced at her again. Now from close up, she appeared as abandoned as the rock on which she was sitting. Her posture tiny and bowed over. Her hair helplessly scattered by the wind. A weird stinging sensation deep in his heart. A feeling unfamiliar but which appealed to him more and more with every second he was experiencing it. Painful and sweet at the same time. Ambiguous and confusing like everything about her.

He placed his foot on the greyish stone. First one and very gently, then both of them and with greater effort. He was walking. 

Walking in her direction. The wind played a lonely tune on the thin stalks of grass. Somewhere in the distance, two seagulls quarrelled fiercely. He continued walking. 

Step after step. First and tenth. Fortieth? 

And then there was no grass. Just a stone wall reaching deep into the water and the waves crashing against it. Chilly breeze against his skin. A multitude of marooned seaweeds beneath his feet and everywhere. Wail of seagulls. And she, gleaming at the end of the road. A black spot amongst endless blueness. The scent of lilac and gooseberries in the air. She. He kept on walking.

He sat down beside her on the rock, casually and without a word because in the moments like this words were useless. They always were, but this Geralt was still learning. 

"Thought you left for good," she whispered, not letting him wait long. 

“Takes more to get rid of me,” Geralt replied and tried to muster up a smile, but she did not see his smile. Her face was turned towards the water. Her eyes kept avoiding him. It hurt. He did not know why, but it hurt.

"You sounded very convinced,” she said then and gently cleared her throat. An emotion bent the corner of her lips. Happiness? Relief? It was hard to tell, but Geralt liked the view.

"So did you.” He took off his jacket and carefully placed it over her shoulders. “Do you want me to-"

“I don’t-” she interrupted and looked at him at last, her violet eyes shone with a sad glare. “No, I don’t think so. Do you want to?"

“No. Not really.” 

“Good.”

“Good.”

She shifted and leaned in just a little as if looking for closeness, maybe even really looked for it. He shifted too. His arm found its way to her shoulders, sheltering her from the cold. He buried his nostrils in her hair which smelled more of wind and dampness than anything else in that very moment. They stayed quiet. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
